


Loss of Faith

by poisonous_panda



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Gen, Hurt, Immortality, Imprisonment, Pain, Self Harm, Suffering, angelgard, self injury, shield!gilgamesh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 09:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11986725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisonous_panda/pseuds/poisonous_panda
Summary: A request from a friend based on her headcanon on how Ardyn's mind was twisted during his imprisonment in Angelgard. What if he waited, believing the Six would rescue him? Then realisation dawns that nobody is coming...





	Loss of Faith

Waking with a jolt, the disgraced Healer of Eos is gripped by panic.

Where is he? Why is it so dark? Weren’t they done with him yet?

It’s freezing cold. Was he laying on stones?

The pain in his ribs tells him the injury he sustained being skewered on that spear as he tried to wriggle free of his captors hadn’t healed. He didn’t even need to look to know his blood was running black.

That was the reason he was here in the first place.

Ardyn Lucis Caelum, the man fated to be the first King of Lucis, had healed the populace of the Starscourge parasite at the Six’s bidding by absorbing it from the afflicted and containing it within himself so it could hurt no other. With his bright yellow eyes and rich flame red hair, he was the perfect symbollic embodiment of the Sun fighting the Darkness. A very tall man, he cut an imposing figure against his enemies but he was ever a comforting presence to those he cared for.

Which was everyone. And they had loved him.

He had gladly taken his duty as Healer. Anything to save the people he loved so much. He had the Six’s blessing and the power to beat the Scourge.

What could go wrong?

Well.... a lot.

He hadn’t accounted on the side effects of absorbing the Scourge. Every time he absorbed it from somebody, he felt himself grow stronger with the forbidden power. Of course he would never use it; his mission was containment only. So when he’d scuff himself on his journey and gain the odd scrap and cut as he travelled, it shocked him that his blood was no longer crimson, but black. But, nobody had to know. He could feel the power coursing through him but sometimes - only sometimes - when he had let curiousity get the better of him, he’d tried these daemonic powers out. Only a small portion - being able to throw balls of dark energy at opponents and the like. But he hadn’t needed them, the Lucis Caelum blood-link to the Crystal had provided him with more than enough abilities - being able to harness the elements from the natural world, warping, stitching time temporarily, phasing, shapeshifting... the list goes on. That is why every Lucis Caelum male child was subjected to intense magical training once they were old enough. The power did not run along the females of the bloodline.

The more he absorbed, the stronger he got. But it began to show. If he felt a surge of emotions - regardless of if it was happiness, excitement, fear, sadness or anger - if it was too intense, Ardyn found the black blood would seep from his face. So he had to work hard to consciously keep his cool in every situation lest he frighten the people he was trying to help.

But now that was all gone.

Locked in this cold darkness on his back, Ardyn began to weep. Why had his brother turned the people against him? Was he truly jealous? He couldn’t have meant the nasty words he’d used to publicly denounce Ardyn; “Daemon”, “Monster”, “Killer”. Ardyn felt no hate towards the people, they were scared and looked to their monarchs for guidance and comfort. But it hurt his heart that his own brother was the one to instigate the Healer’s downfall.

He needed to talk to his brother, he couldn’t run away otherwise he’d be running forever.

And his Shield, Gilgamesh. What became of that noble warrior and friend?

Adjusting his eyes to the darkness, Ardyn summoned what little elemental power he had left (completely ignoring the daemonic magic he could feel crackling along his veins) and let out a powerful blast of fire magic. The fire melted the mortar holding the giant blocks of stone together, and with several huge grunts of effort, Ardyn was able to push them away.

Feeling his spine creak as he stood up, Ardyn stretched his arms above his head as he took in his surroundings.

He was indeed in a large stone structure. And it seems he had just burst out of a stone sarcophagus. He guessed it was meant to serve as his tomb. The whole place was bathed in the pale glow of the moon, shining down from a vertical rectangular window high above him.

The air was chilly, and Ardyn wraps his arms around his bare torso as he quietly pads barefoot to the single door opposite the sarcophagus and pulls on the iron ring handle. At least he had some black trousers on to cover his modesty.

Of course it was locked. Ardyn chuckled to himself at the obviousness of it.

Well, the door was only wooden, so Ardyn summoned a bit more of the elemental power he had and burned the door.

His face grimanced as the flames cleared.

The wood was untouched. As a second plan, Ardyn tries to summon his weapon from the Armiger - but it does not respond. So Ardyn tried the old fashioned way of trying to kick the door in, but as soon as his foot made contact he felt like he was kicking a stone slab rather than a wooden door.

It must be enchanted.

Sighing and making his way over to the stone bench next to the broken sarcophagus, Ardyn takes a seat.

“Ready when you are.” he says to nobody in particular.

Surely his Gods haven’t abandoned him in his hour of need, not when he’s already done so much and his mission isn’t fulfilled yet.

So he sat there, one leg crossed over the other with his arms folded and his head bowed. Waiting.

He waited. And waited. And waited.

He had watched the moon disappear in that vertical window and watched the sun rise. Twice.

He was surprised he didn’t feel hungry or thirsty or even that tired. Must be a result of the enchantment on this peculiar building. He didn’t even know where he was.

When the sun arose on the third day, Ardyn grew restless. How much time had passed before he woke up in the sarcophagus? It was inpossible to know. All he knew was that he’d been sitting here for three days.

Climbing up on top of the ruined sarcophagus, Ardyn reaches for the vertical window with the intention of trying to squeeze out of it. But as soon as his hand made contact, a bright blue light shone and repelled him. A force field of sorts.

Izunia had designed Ardyn’s prison well, and Ardyn felt the oddest sense of pride at his brother’s ingenuity. Looking out the window one last time as he hung there, clinging to the ledge by his fingers, he sees something that filled his heart with hope again.

Giant black and gold swords. The Draconian’s swords!

So the Six knew he was here!

Letting himself fall back to the ground, Ardyn raced to the centre of the stone prison and drops to his knees, clamping his eyes shut and clasping his hands together in prayer.

“Hexatheon! Hear my prayer! It is your humble Healer requesting your aid! I cannot fulfill my duty trapped in here!”

His voice hitched as he finished, tears welling up behind his closed eyelids. His pleading voice echoing all around the stone chamber.

“How many more will die from the Scourge while I am trapped here? Please, for them, release me!”

Silence.

Deafening silence. Aside from the ocean waves crashing outside.

Nobody answered his prayer.

Throwing his dignity aside, Ardyn fell forward and wept on the cold stone floor, the sunlight blazing at his back through the window. He mourned for everyone he has yet to save, those he knew he couldn’t while he was trapped, mourned for his brother’s unstable mental dispostion and mourned for himself. Nobody likes to be trapped after all.

What if the Six left him to rot?

No. No, he can’t think that. There must be a reason he couldn’t feel the basic of human needs like hunger, thirst and tiredness. Were the Six trying to look after him that way until they could come rescue him?

Yes. That must be it. They wouldn’t abandon him, abandon Eos.

So now, all he could do was wait.

Straightening back up into the kneeling position, Ardyn looks at the black pool of tears he had left on the floor from his weeping. Running a finger through the thick liquid, Ardyn wandered over to the wall and made four vertical lines with the black poison. He would tally how long he would be stuck here, it could help him keep a level head and track the passage of time.

The days passed. And they turned into weeks. But still, Ardyn prayed every night.

Ardyn was growing increasingly panicked. How much longer? How was everyone? How many had died from the Scourge because he couldn’t fulfill his divine duty?

Weeks turned into months. Still, Ardyn prayed.

Ardyn’s birthday passed. Then Izunia’s. Then other national holidays.

Nobody came for the Healer.

Did they all seriously think he was dead? He could scarcely believe he was still alive after consuming absolutely no sustenance for months. He didn’t need sleep, but sometimes it helped just to cure the boredom.

Something was definitely amiss with this situation.

On the year anniversary of him waking up in his imprisonment, Ardyn began to allow himself to feel angry.

Why was he still here?!

Climbing up to that window again, he looked at the Draconian’s swords gleaming in the sunlight. But rather than bring him peace and hope like their presence had done this past year, it made his heart beat faster with rage.

“Why have you forsaken me?!” Ardyn screams at the inanimate objects, as if they’d answer him.

Dropping down to the ground again, he paces the stone chamber.

“It’s been a whole year! Do you not care for your people? Have I not appeased you enough? Has the Scourge been destroyed whilst I’ve rotted in here?” He stops, turns, and glares at the window, “ANSWER ME!” he bellows.

That’s it. For the first time in his life, Ardyn loses complete control of himself. And Dark energy bursts forth from him in blinding purple light. Nothing is damaged because of the magical barrier surrounding his prison, but it helped Ardyn’s mood nonetheless. And it also seems to have angered the Gods.

There’s a deafening roar, and Bahamut bursts into existance within that stone chamber. Well... not the real Draconian, his image is slightly transluscent, indicating it was a projection of the King of Astrals.

“Accursed, you have been tainted by the Scourge. We cannot allow one of such impurity to ascend.”

Ardyn snapped.

“Forbidden to ascend?! You take my throne from me after all I have done for you?!” In a fit of rage, Ardyn tosses some daemonic energy at the projection of Bahamut - obviously not hurting the God, but enough to show Ardyn’s distain for him.

“The throne... And the Astral Realm” came Bahamut’s booming but smooth reply.

The words made Ardyn’s blood run cold.

“So...” he begins meekly, “That’s why I haven’t starved to death...”

The Healer drops to his knees.

“This is to be your tomb. Sleep, it will make it easier.” Bahamut tries to soothe the man he betrayed before blinking out of sight.

There’s silence on the entire island Ardyn is trapped on. No birdsong, no waves crashing. Nothing but the blood roaring in his ears.

Instead, he lets out a choked, sorrowful laugh dripping with bitterness. And once he started, he couldn’t stop. The barked ironic laugh cascaded into a full maniacial laughter.

This had to be a sick joke. After all the people he had healed, everything he had done, everything he had become... was at the Astral’s bidding. They surely wouldn’t really forsake him and condemn him to the loneliness of immortality. Would they?

With his head swimming, Ardyn reacts without thinking. To spite the Draconian and to test his words, Ardyn runs to the shattered sarcophagus and finds the sharpest rock he can. Pricking his finger on the point to ensure it was sharp enough, he drags the sharp rock down both his forearms, from the crook of his elbow to his wrist. He shrieks in pain and effort, every instinct in his body fighting against what he’s trying to do to himself. Black blood spurted forth, decorating the walls and Ardyn crashes to the floor under the weight of his emotional burden.

After a few minutes, the blood stops flowing and Ardyn’s skin knits itself back together without so much as a trace of a scar.

Staring at his miraculously healed arms with unseeing eyes, black liquid spills from the Fallen King’s eyes.

“I... cannot die.” he states out loud to himself, tasting the words. His chest was tight and his limbs were heavy from the psychological stress of the entire situation, so Ardyn gave in and chose to sleep where he sat.

He was woken by the gentle shaking of his shoulder.

“Hmm?” he hums, as he cracks his tired eyes open.

He looked straight into the face of a frozen angel. Shiva had awoken him.

“Shiva...” he groggily says her name, if only because he didn’t know what else to say, “Why have you all forsaken me?” He was beyond caring how miserable he sounded.

The Goddess’ eyes soften.

“Fallen King, there is a prophecy to end your suffering.” she smiles at him.

Ardyn sits bolt upright, so she continues.

“Blessed by the Stone, the Chosen King shall be born to banish the Darkness... and along with it grant the Fallen Son of Lucis his rest.”

“Chosen King?” Ardyn scrambles to his feet, towering over the delicate Goddess, “What about me? Was I not once your Chosen?”

“You still are,” she continues to smile at him as if she was bringing him the best news ever despite Ardyn still feeling a simmering hatred for her and her kind, “But my powers are bound to my own King.”

She places a chaste kiss on Ardyn’s cheek before she too vanishes from sight. In her place were his old clothes, laid out on the ground before him. Dressing quickly, Ardyn felt more himself in his Princely Attire than the captive he felt in just those torn trousers.

“Chosen King...” he spits to himself, words coated in malice, “So you cast one aside to grant another your favour? Fickle children.”

The man Shiva had awoken was not the same Healer. Unbeknownst to him, he had slept for just over a century after the failed attempt to take his own life. That’s how long it had taken for Ardyn Lucis Caelum, First King of Lucis and Healer of the People to be scrubbed from living memory. Once he was dressed, he was trying to think of how he could find out more about this Chosen King who Shiva had hinted had not even been born yet.

Suddenly the temperature drops dramatically. Ardyn was used to this signifying Shiva’s presence.

“Have you returned to torture me more, my dear?” he snaps out loud.

There was no answer. Instead, the sealed door in the prison creaks open by itself. Now he had no fear of death, Ardyn nonchalently walks out of the small room he’s spent the best part of 101 years in - not including however long it had been before he woke up in the first place. He would have to find out just how long he was sealed away for.

“I could not save the Pyreburner,” Shiva’s disembodied voice speaks to him in her own Astral tongue which Ardyn understood, “But there is hope for you yet, Fallen Son.”

Ardyn plasters a smirk on his face to mask the hurt Shiva had caused him by comparing him to the evil Infernian.

“I can now understand his motives.” he sulks out loud.

Stopping on the stairs descending down to the island, Ardyn suddenly realises how true his words actually were. Ifrit had betrayed the Gods and began the Astral War after the people of Solheim turned on him, and his bretheren did not come to his assistance. Just like they never came to their First Chosen King’s aid when the people turned their back on him.

Looking around the small island his prison had been constructed on, Ardyn tries to recognise something... anything, that would tell him where he was. But there was only ocean for miles around. At least the small island provided the perfect training ground.

He would harness his powers - both daemonic and bloodbourne - and follow the Infernian’s example. If you can’t trust the people or the Gods, who can you trust?

Yourself.

Ardyn resolves to become as powerful as he can, then await the day the Second Chosen King is born. Would it be better to die and let the Gods have their way so he can rest? Or should he mess all their plans up and kill the Chosen? After all, they had left him to rot like a corpse sealed away from the world.

Well... he had all the time in the world to make up his mind.

After all, this other Chosen was just a second choice at best.


End file.
